


Total Eclipse of the Heart

by Wakor



Category: Peacecraft, World of Warcraft
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, One Shot, Parody, Short One Shot, This Is STUPID, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 05:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10269047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wakor/pseuds/Wakor
Summary: An orc -- a true orc warrior -- wishes for one thing: to die in the glory of battle against a hated enemy. But what becomes of an orc when his death is of the heart, and his enemy is anything but hated?I can’t believe I’m fucking writing this. I don't even know anything about World of Warcraft lore. I read a WoWWiki article just to write this. God dammit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe I’m fucking writing this. I don't even know anything about World of Warcraft lore. I read a WoWWiki article just to write this. God dammit. 
> 
> I haven't written anything in literally years and now I'm doing this. If it's good writing, I'm glad you enjoy it; if it sounds completely stupid, then I've done my job. Bone appetite.

Varok never sat, never rested. The first thing a Horde warrior saw when they stepped into Grommosh Hold was a towering orc who was already ready to speak, already ready to act, as if he’d been expecting you all this time. But today, Varok’s knees betrayed him, and he sat, weak legs sprawled lazily before him and his steel jaw resting pensively against his palm.

He was too old to fret over his image. His habits were for his personal honor alone, not for show. But then again, Varok used to think he was too old for a _lot_ of things – things that got the best of him anyway. _I need to get up, I need to get past the shock_ , he thought, but that wasn’t in his control. His mind and his body belonged to someone else that day.

It belonged to a hero.

Varok still remembered the taste of him. It was sharp, like copper – and hot, like tenacity. His jaw still felt the weight of small fingers clutching the spikes as they pulled him close. The memory permeated his focus, just like the Alliance squadron had permeated his city – the memory of a man who fell on Varok’s blade a thousand times only to claim his throne, then his heart, under his very nose.

The thought of it made him spit bitter phlegm on the ground. He forced himself onto his feet, his shaking feet, and walked the length of Grommosh Hold’s entry way. There was no way to see into the outside, but the air flowed freely; Varok breathed it in deeply while his men readied themselves to follow him, wondering if he might leave the fortress. He wouldn’t. The hero who had his heart was out there, but his duty, for now, was right here – with the Horde, like it always would be.

Placing his hand against the splintering wood that blocked the room from the outside, Varok couldn’t help but think back on old thoughts. There used to be a sort of peace between the Horde and the Alliance, right? It was a fantasy both he and Thrall used to indulge in. But if a gnome is willing to push a small army through all of Orgrimmar’s forces, die a thousand times, only to sweep him off his feet… maybe it was a sign of the times.

Varok gazed upward and bit his lip, thinking of his hero’s deadly kiss. He gazed upward and accepted that he had died that day, fallen in battle, slain by a hated enemy – a true orc death in any other situation. But it wasn’t his body that was dead. There was no corpse to burn in Nagrand.

The only thing Raandyy had killed was a stagnant heart, firm in its belief that this war could ever change.


End file.
